Early the next morning, Kirika made her way to the small riverbank boutique mall where she'd met with Alexander, looking intently for that familiar lanky frame and head of nut-brown hair. Sunlight bathed everything in a golden glow, sparkling off the water while birds swooped and darted through the treetops; even a few small squirrels and chipmunks appeared in the warm green grass, little noses and fluffy tails twitching as they hunted for nuts along the dirt. It would be a perfect day for sketching, but right now, the young woman had more personal business at hand. "Kirika!" Her intuition had been right, then. Kirika turned, her trademark smile curving up the corners of her lips. As though her thoughts had summoned him to this spot, Alexander jogged up, grinning from ear to ear. "I didn't know if I'd see you again." He seemed rather gleeful, giving her a quick, one-armed hug around the shoulders before pulling back to look her up and down. "Well, you look like you're happy, so I'm guessing you and Mirelle didn't have some big knock-down, drag-out fight over yesterday. Was she really mad?" Kirika nodded slightly, her eyes dancing just a bit. Mad or even really mad was a bit of an understatement. Mirelle had been absolutely livid when the taxi she'd picked up had finally reached the street corner. Oh, not at Kirika, although the young woman had feared that. Her rage had been directed entirely at the goons and whoever had hired them. She'd been snarling, barely keeping her voice down, alternating between firing questions at Kirika to make sure she was alright and cursing furiously in a combination of English, Japanese, Italian, German, Russian, Spanish and what had to be Corsican. Kirika suspected her partner was trying hard to keep the poor, confused cabbie from understanding, or she might have added French to the mix. Not that it really helped – by the time the man had pulled up in front of their apartment ten minutes later, Kirika was certain he was more than happy to get rid of them. Upstairs in the safety of their flat, Mirelle had insisted on examining the Japanese assassin's body carefully, assuring herself that the younger woman was safe and untouched before ordering her into a hot shower. Mirelle would be making dinner for the two of them. Kirika wasn't to touch anything. The blonde Corsican had been so intense about it, Kirika hadn't dared refuse; though in truth, she had enough things on her mind that she could use the time to think. Alex, the thugs and the attack – - Mirelle – her feelings for Mirelle, and Mirelle's possible feelings for her – Dinner had been a light affair, some warm soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. They'd eaten quietly, absorbed in their own thoughts, though Kirika noticed Mirelle stealing glances at her every so often. Those beautiful sapphire eyes had been so dark, roiling like thunderclouds, with too many murky emotions to name. Still, she'd hugged Kirika tightly before climbing into bed, and there was no mistaking the warm gentleness in that gesture. "I'm glad you're okay." She'd whispered, voice so soft it was almost inaudible. Kirika had lain still in the dark for several minutes afterwards, caught between the comforting safety of her partner's warmth and the racing of her mind. She had felt Mirelle watching her, an intent gaze on the back of her head that made the Japanese young woman long to turn and see the expression on that beautiful face. Actually, she wanted to shift back until she was pressed against the lean, muscled frame behind her, cuddled in those strong, caring arms. Then again, she'd had that urge for quite a while. Maybe not as strong as it was now that she understood her feelings . . . but either way, it was just a faint dream. It would never happen, right? Something hovered over her bare shoulder, a warmth only a hair above the skin that still sent her senses into overdrive. It stayed there for a long, frozen moment, utterly still – then, ever so hesitant, the soft fingers touched lightly to flesh. Mirelle stroked her partner's shoulder once, twice, letting her hand rest there for another long moment before slowly withdrawing it. A quiet murmur floated from her side of the bed, for once without a trace of sauciness. "Goodnight, Kirika." Back in the present, Kirika smiled. She'd fallen asleep fairly quickly after that, lulled by the happiness welling up inside her as much as the blonde's familiar, even breathing. It had been incredibly, innocently sweet – – although her dreams afterward had been decidedly not – Alexander waved a hand in front of her face, laughing. "Earth to Kirika. Come in, Kirika!" He grinned at her, eyes dancing. "Sheee-it, was it that good? You didn't – " a pause, and the young woman could have sworn her friend was embarrassed. "Did you?" Kirika's eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously, cheeks flaming. No, they hadn't – at least, not in reality. Her dreams, though, had been an entirely different story. Apparently, her subconscious had decided that realizing her feelings meant it was safe to indulge in a fantasy or two. Of the kind she'd never even imagined she could think of. Smoldering lips pressed against hers in a burning kiss, one arm wrapped around her waist while elegant fingers tangled in her thick hair. The Corsican's lean frame pushed close, molding their bodies together, drawing a breathy whimper from Kirika's throat and turning her knees to jelly. The younger woman's eyes slid shut as electric pleasure hummed beneath her skin. "Mireyu – " "Kirika." Mirelle's voice was rich and dark, heavy with a hunger that had nothing to do with food. Her velvet mouth trailed slowly over Kirika's golden-tan chin, slipping along the jawbone and down that slender, delicate neck with small, nibbling kisses. Kirika gasped, head falling back as her fingers dug into her partner's hips. Some distant part of her mind wondered if Mirelle knew that she'd taken to saying Kirika's name with a faint Japanese accent. The rest of her was absorbed in the intoxicating rush of the Corsican's fingertips trailing smoothly over her skin. She was trembling, melting – The images flashed back only briefly, but they were enough to turn her blush from deep pink to a whole new shade of dark red. Kirika shook herself mentally. It was her dreams that had clinched it for her, sending her from their warm bed while Mirelle slept in so she could seek Alexander's help. "No, I didn't tell her. I – I wanted to ask for your help." Alex's eyebrows rose, and he looked a bit surprised. "My help? With wha – " His voice trailed off, puzzled for a moment before his whole face lit with delight. "You want to woo her, don't you?" Kirika nodded, a bit shakily, but resolute. "That's what it is, I think." She hitched her bag a little higher on her shoulder, gathering her courage in both hands. "I want to know – if she likes me that way. And I want her to like me." Her expression was hesitant. "Is that bad?" "No way! It's perfect." Alexander hugged her again, and Kirika was so relieved she didn't even mind. He was grinning from ear to ear now, confident and pleased. "I'm betting she likes you anyway. She's probably given you tons of clues." The Japanese young woman thought back for a few seconds, intent. Mirelle had given her clues to her feelings? Somehow, it wasn't easy to bring any incident to mind. No doubt Alex would know if something was a clue or not, but she didn't have enough experience to really tell. She knew Mirelle cared about her, had been worried about her last night . . . but she had a feeling he meant something a little more. So what – "She gave me chocolates." Kirika blurted with the startled, gleeful air of a young child discovering a hidden Easter egg. "Last night, I guess she got them while she was out shopping. She got my favorite kind." "Perfect." Alexander said again, nodding. "They're small gifts, but that's the point. If you didn't want them, or if you didn't like her feelings, it wouldn't be a big deal. She could convince herself it was casual." "Like the gifts from when she left?" Hope rose in Kirika's chest, light as a helium balloon. Alex looked proud of her. "Yes. Small things that she knows you'll like, but it doesn't matter if you don't, because she can call it just a gift between partners. Then it doesn't matter." "And – and she hugged me last night." Now a jolt of heat spread through her body. Her eyes glowed. "She was scared." "I believe it." Alexander laughed, tugging her down the sidewalk. "Come on, we'll go grab some breakfast at this cute little café I know. We've got to stay out past lunchtime, anyway." Kirika blinked, puzzled, though she followed obediently. "What? Why? Mirelle will worry if I'm not home soon." That was an understatement. After last night, the blonde Corsican would be going out of her mind when she woke up and found her partner gone. Kirika's note hadn't been exactly helpful, either. "That's the point." Alex's grin would have looked perfect on the Cheshire Cat. "You want her worried. It works perfectly with the plan." "What plan?" Kirika wondered what he was going on about. Alexander's eyes danced. "The oldest trick in the book, Kirika. Jealousy." "So wait a minute. I want to make Mirelle jealous?" Sitting at Alex's chosen café about an hour later, Kirika sipped idly at the diet soda she'd ordered, listening patiently for her friend to explain his 'amazing' plan. Alexander sat across from her, a wicked smirk on his face as he swigged a gulp from his own paper cup. "Exactly." He nodded, elbows propped on the table and leaning forward gleefully. "See, I bet part of the problem is she's scared to admit she likes you. It's hard to do anyway, but when you're working partners, it's gotta be ten times tougher, right?" Kirika nodded, and Alex grinned, continuing. "But it's natural to get jealous of people when they have something you don't. Especially in a relationship, when it's a person you love that maybe belongs to someone else, or has feelings for someone else. Have you ever had any friends Mirelle was jealous of?" Rubbing at her nose shyly, Kirika thought for a moment. Milosh immediately came to mind; Mirelle had been more sarcastic than usual with her orders to break off contact with the tortured artist, especially the second time around. Almost cruel, and she knew Mirelle was never cruel without a reason. But she'd seemed regretful and almost guilty when he died. That image melted into another, of Mirelle's face lit with bloody light from the setting sun, the expression in her eyessharp but somehow soft at the same time. Her throat tightened slightly. Chloe had been horribly jealous of Mirelle, she knew that much. But had Mirelle actually been jealous of the childlike redhead as well? Something in her gut said yes. "Two people." She agreed finally. "Two friends, close ones. Mirelle – I think she was jealous of them both." Alexander's eyes danced. "See, I thought so. She obviously likes you, but she's afraid to admit her feelings. With you as her partner and her family, I can sort of see why." Slowly, Kirika nodded, taking another drink of her soda before playing idly with the straw. This made sense. "But we also know she's really jealous of anybody that has your attention." Alex kept up his explanation, sipping at his own cup. "So the question is, how do you get her to admit to her feelings if she's so guarded about it? Easy!" He waved a hand like a magician revealing his latest incredible feat. "You make her jealous enough to lose control. If she sees you with someone new, she's bound to get jealous again, even more now because of last night. If she sees you romantically with someone new, it'll be twice as bad. So I'll drop you off back at your apartment," his eyes danced, "and we'll do a little fake kiss. Nothing steamy or gross," he added hastily, "but enough to make sure she sees. She'll throw a fit. Then all you have to do is casually press her about why she's acting so weird." His fingers snapped. "Presto! She blurts out something about her feelings for you, you assure her that you feel the same way, and it all works itself out. It can't fail." Silent for a moment, Kirika found the corners of her lips curling up, eyes beginning to gleam. This sounded like it would actually work, especially with Mirelle's sharp, headstrong temper. "Isn't it bad luck to say that before an operation?" She asked softly. Alexander stared for a few seconds, then burst into laughter. "Ahhh, you're right! I don't want to jinx this." Reaching out, he caught her hand across the table, squeezing it gently. "But it will work, Kirika. We're gonna make it work." Kirika nodded, her own fingers returning the squeeze. "So – what should we do until then?" Alex grinned mischievously. "Well, there's this great new art store that just opened up down the block – " Sultry, silken lips pressed against hers, moving in a searing haze of bliss and pleasure. Mirelle groaned low and deep in her throat, the dark-honey sound captured like nectar by Kirika's sweet mouth. The younger woman gave an answering growl, deepening the kiss with a thrust of her tongue, and the heat of it made Mirelle's insides shiver. It felt so good – They broke when their lungs finally forced them apart, both gasping for breath. Propped up on the flat of one forearm, the blonde Corsican gazed down at her partner with heavy-lidded eyes, brushing Kirika's bangs back with soft, caressing fingertips. A smile touched her kiss-swollen lips, hot and shadowed in promise. "Kirika." "Mirelle." Kirika's voice was a soft moan, her slender body shuddering beneath Mirelle's as those fingertips trailed down her golden cheek. Her thick hair fanned out across the pillows, a dark glory against the pale cotton, but Mirelle was more interested in the delicate flush rising along her lithe, toned frame, the gentle heaving swell of her breasts beneath that thin tank-top she always wore to bed. Leaning forward once more, the Corsican claimed her partner's mouth with a deep kiss before letting her lips slide oh-so-lightly down Kirika's elegant neck. Her teeth scraped at the tanned skin, testing and teasing, a jolt of liquid fire shooting through her nerves as she heard a breathy whine starting in the back of Kirika's throat. She loved that sound, so full of heat and whispered want. She especially loved hearing Kirika make that kind of sound, causing her to make that kind of sound. Lean, muscled legs – bare save a light sheen of sweat – slid against the blonde's, the hot contact of skin on skin making Mirelle suck in an aching gasp, mouth still pressed just below her partner's collarbone. The Corsican shifted slightly, moving her thigh until it pressed hard against the juncture between Kirika's own. Fierce satisfaction slammed through Mirelle as she realized the younger woman's light cotton shorts were already faintly damp. Kirika moaned, hips jerking up instinctively in response to the pressure. "Mireyu – Mireyu, oh – " "Mmmm." Her tone was rough, a possessive wildness coloring the words with crimson heat. Mirelle slid the thin straps of Kirika's tank-top down her slender shoulders, baring Kirika's upper chest to the blonde's hungry gaze. The younger woman whimpered, shuddering deliciously at the doubled contact, and Mirelle could feel her partner's pulse racing beneath her lips. Smirking just slightly, Mirelle let her mouth travel lower, tongue making soft, swirling caresses along one perfect breast. She was rewarded with a shaky sound of pure, molten desire, nipple rising taut and hard to her touch, Kirika's nails digging into the mattress as the Japanese arched herself against the pale porcelain body above her. Her own breathing shallow, the blonde slipped her fingers beneath the hem of the shirt, trailing them lightly along Kirika's smooth, flat stomach. Bumping over the elastic waistband, her fingertips darted farther down, rubbed and pressed almost tauntingly. She loved this, too. The building tension, all the heated teasing – knowing with every small noise and trembling jerk that she could give her adored partner such obvious pleasure, that Kirika wanted her so very much. Drawing the warm peak into her mouth, Mirelle suckled at it slowly, savoring the sharp passionate gasp from above her as much as the hot, lightly sweat-salted taste. This was how it should be – Hands tugged hard at her simple nightshirt, one impatiently unfastening buttons while the other dragged her back up for another blazing kiss. The world spun briefly, a rioting kaleidoscope of motion and feel, and the blonde found herself suddenly on her back, looking up into Kirika's eyes made dark and burning with desire. The younger woman ground her hips into Mirelle's, husky voice panting and almost laughing at the same time. "You – are – a tease, Mireyu." Now it was Mirelle's turn to moan, Kirika's fingers abandoning the fastenings for a moment to dance across her partner's ribs. The blonde's nerves sizzled as those same fingers stroked higher, thumbs rolling her nipples until she cried out, breathless and pleading. "Ki-Kirika –" Her throat caught so tightly she could hardly do more than gasp. "Kirika – oh Kirika please." Kirika made a low, dark version of her usual agreeing noise, returning to the last of the buttons. Her own tanktop had vanished, though Mirelle wasn't quite sure where; she only knew the lean frame pressed against her was bare from the waist up, a toned expanse of heated skin and strong muscle. Mirelle choked on another heady moan as her partner's teeth sunk suddenly into her neck, hard enough to leave a jolt of aching pleasure behind. The blonde knew instinctively what it was. A mark, a claim, a visible sign of all the fierce passion burning between them. To be claimed by Kirika – the intoxicating thought sent the Corsican's already-dizzy mind reeling. The heat between her thighs was a throbbing blaze now, her flesh buzzing in waves, begging for more of that familiar touch until she thought she might go mad. Her hand tangled blindly in Kirika's thick hair, urging the smaller woman on without words. Kirika's mouth slipped obligingly lower, almost smiling, velvet smoothness even better against sensitized skin. Nuzzling softly, her fingers tracing light circles across the blonde's inner thigh, while the other hand began the slow, sensuous pulling of her pale white panties – Mirelle moaned, her entire body tightening in reaction, arching, aching, pleading – – and a car horn blared outside, loud enough to wake the dead. Or at least, a dreaming assassin. Mirelle jerked bolt-upright, heart racing, completely disoriented for a moment as her sleeping reality was rent in half. Then the world slammed back into focus, and she gave a shocked gasp, leaping from the bed and running for the bathroom like it was on fire. Twisting the shower knob almost frantically, she nearly threw herself into the icy spray, letting it fall in needles across her naked body. What in the hell had that been? Staring into the thundering droplets with unseeing eyes, Mirelle brushed away her already-plastered bangs with a shaking hand. To her growing horror, she realized it wasn't just her hands; her legs, her whole body was trembling and flushed, muscles deep in the pit of her stomach clenched in a tight ache. It wasn't normal, and for a few seconds she found herself lost. You're aroused. That sarcastic voice she was truly beginning to hate skittered through her thoughts, smirkingly amused. It's called a wet dream, genius. You dreamed about Kirika, and it made you hot. But you knew that already – you just don't like it. Mirelle took a sharp breath, stunned and wanting to argue – then, teeth clenched, she let it out slowly, forcing calm with the instincts born of a lifetime of deadly training. Actually, if she wanted to be honest with herself, the voice was right. She wasn't anywhere near stupid in that particular area of life, in spite of her unorthodox upbringing and possibly-terminal virginity; Uncle Claude had treated sex and its related subjects with the same careful attention to detail that he showed every other part of her life. Biologically speaking, it had been a simple, natural reaction, and it shouldn't have bothered her a bit. Intellectually, though, it was a whole different matter. Never mind that Kirika was female, and Mirelle had never had even the slightest feelings for anyone of the same gender before. Aside from a few small, tame flings with young men when she'd been a few years younger, she hadn't really had an attraction to anyone. It was too dangerous, for her and for whoever caught her eye. No, what had really shaken her was the sense of . . . connection, in the dream. The sense of complete attraction that had been more than simple desire or even lust, an utter belonging that went deeper than any words could ever describe. She hadn't just wanted Kirika. She had known Kirika, known the way they would both respond, understood it and welcomed it to the very marrow of her bones. And it hadn't faded much, either. Even now, standing awake under the newly-steaming shower, she could remember every gentle stroke, every fierce brush of lips, everything that made her blood pulse and heart soar – Her throat tightened, a mix of terror and remembered anticipation mingling in her chest. It frightened her beyond imagining that she could desire something so wild, that she could want to lose control so badly. She had spent her whole life – her whole assassin's life, anyway – striving to keep perfect discipline. Herself, her hits, it didn't matter. Control was the heart of someone in her position. You never gave it up to anyone, no matter what. Hell, she and Kirika had spent the better part of a year fighting to regain control of their lives from Soldats. How could she ever want to throw all that away, even dreaming? Mirelle slammed her hand into the shower wall with a sudden surge of fury. She wasn't quite sure who she was mad at – herself, the dream, Kirika, some combination of all three – but she knew she was angrier than she should be. Temper, temper. Her inner voice smirked. It's not the poor tiles' fault you dreamed about coping off your pretty little partner. But maybe it's easier to get angry at something than think about your feelings. If you're punching holes in the bathroom, you don't have to admit why you're really afraid. The Corsican snarled soundlessly, throwing her soaked hair behind one shoulder. I'm not afraid of anything. She informed her subconscious tartly. Why would I be afraid of some stupid dream that didn't mean anything anyway? It's just like dreaming about talking snails or dogs that do laundry. A random firing of brain neurons that puts together odd pictures based on things seen or thought of during the day. Of course. The voice agreed, mock-serious. Just a random wet dream. And the fact that you always go into clinical speak when you're flustered means nothing, either. Mirelle ground her teeth in frustration. It was a biological reaction, nothing more. I haven't had a fling with anyone in over a year – it was obviously just a reaction to the stress of the last few days. Like the altitude and time-changes. I just need to get my head clear, and I'll be fine. The idea was believable enough to put aside her worries, and Mirelle leaned back slightly into the warm spray, hoping the heat would help relax her tense muscles as she washed up. After the attack last night, it was natural that she'd dream about Kirika, she told herself firmly. The other girl was an important part of her life, if not the most important; Kirika in danger had sent her protective instincts into overdrive, and it made sense that it would have continued in her sleep. She was just glad that her little partner hadn't noticed her jumping out of bed like a ninny. That would have been more than a little embarrassing, to say the least. Speaking of which, where was Kirika? With a frown, Mirelle twisted the shower knob off and pushed back the curtain, eyes darkening ominously. She'd known the moment she woke up that the young woman wasn't curled up beside her, but in the back of her mind, she'd assumed her partner was simply in the kitchen making tea or sketching in the main area of their flat. Now, though, she knew from the silence in the apartment that she was the only one home. Grabbing for a towel, she wrapped it swiftly around herself, tucking the free end roughly under the top as she strode from the bathroom. Logically, the blonde knew Kirika had probably just left to get some groceries from the store or on a quick errand; there was no way anyone could possibly have snuck in and taken just Kirika without the two of them waking up, after all. But logic had nothing to do with the threads of worry twisting through the pit of her stomach. A quick scan of her sapphire gaze revealed a small, folded sheet of paper, pulled neatly from one of Kirika's sketchbooks and propped against her laptop screen. Mirelle plucked it from the table with two fingers, concern fading as she read the words written in Kirika's unmistakable hand. "Went out for things – be back soon?" What the hell is that supposed to mean? The Corsican went over the note a second time, then a third, irritation growing with each moment. After last night, what in the hell was Kirika thinking! She shouldn't have been going anywhere by herself. And leaving something this vague – be back soon could mean just about anything, for cripes' sake. Did the younger woman expect her to sit around waiting for hours? Nevermind that you usually expect her to do the same thing when you go out by yourself. Mirelle shoved that thought away, crumpling the note in her hand and half-hurling it into the trashcan beside the pool table. Almost stomping, she strode to the bedroom, yanking clothes out with hardly even a glance to see if they matched. So what if Kirika was gone? It wasn't like she needed the Japanese assassin to hold her hand for everything. She'd done things by herself for years! The cell phone perched on the bedside table began vibrating, lighting up as it rang cheerfully, and in spite of herself the blonde leapt to snatch it up. Maybe Kirika was calling. And I can give her a piece of my mind, Mirelle added the thought hastily, ignoring a snicker from her smirking subconscious. A quick glance at the glowing front screen, though, showed a number she didn't recognize. Lips pursed in a frown, the Corsican paused, mind running with possibilities. Andre wouldn't have risked calling from a land-line or someone else's phone, especially with Garrison out to get us. Besides, he doesn't even know about the attack yesterday, he wouldn't have a reason to call. Paula and the rest have their names programmed in, so it's not one of them. Besides, all of them would use the apartment phone, not my cell. And there's no way Kirika would be calling – – unless she got attacked again and lost her phone. Then she'd have to use a payphone, and she'd want to make sure to reach me. After another moment of hesitation, Mirelle sighed and flipped it open, holding the phone to her ear. "Hello?" "Miss Bouquet. It's good to hear from you." The aristocratic voice was male, and once again, instantly familiar. Mirelle dropped the shirt she'd pulled out and gaped slightly, sapphire eyes widening. "Mr. Breffort?" "Yes." A slight rustle, and the blonde could hear leather creaking in the background, as though the Councilman was leaning forward in a high-end office chair. "I apologize for calling at such an early hour. I didn't wake the two of you, did I?" Her face hardened, voice clipped. "No. Kirika is out, and I'm already up." "Oh really?" Breffort sounded just a hair surprised for a moment. "In that case, if you aren't too busy, would you consider a meeting with me? I have a bit of information I would like to pass on, and it's – rather sensitive to talk about over the phone." Mirelle's first reaction was a sulky, childish no. Whatever information he had, it couldn't be as important as he was making it sound. Besides, he was a Soldats high Councilman, the deadliest liars there were. Why should she care what he asked? Screw it all. Still, her gut instincts said she could believe him – and her assassin's training taught her not to give up any possible intel or lead, no matter how slight. She didn't like the idea of going by herself, but she'd be damned if she was going to call Kirika's phone. Let Kirika wonder where she'd gone, if her partner ever got home. "Alright. I'll meet you in half an hour, at the park." For no more than a second, she could have sworn she could feel Breffort smiling on the other end of the phone. "Of course, my dear. I look forward to it." "I'll just bet you do." Mirelle muttered darkly, flipping the phone closed without saying goodbye. One hand flung the cell onto the pillows, the other grabbing for her clothes. In minutes, she was dressed and shrugging into her coat. At least this promised to be something interesting to do. Gee, once again, Mirelle being petty. The dream ended up longer than I meant it to be, so the real confrontation is next chapter - technically, the next two shall happily straighten out exactly who's who and what's going on. (sadistic laugh) Three other one-shots are also in the works - one featuring the Belladonna Lily Woman from episode five or so (and related to the doujinshi), one following Breffort and his feelings for the maidens of death, and another from farther down the road in the what-if universe that deals with a bit of emotional / dramatic semi-fluff. Also, the next chapters should be easier, since I finally got Mirelle's idiotic denials out of the way. xD
Back to The Darkness in Their Eyes Index - Back to Noir Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction